…You have nothing to lose but your scarily prominent hip bones! Alright, not as catchy as the original.
It’s a cruel irony that someone who loves food as much as I do should be afflicted with a bug that makes eating repellent. I’m not throwing up, unfortunately – if I were, I could indulge in whatever I wanted and accept that I’d be seeing it again later – I just feel sick. All the time. Especially when faced with anything remotely edible. I looked askance at a Strepsil earlier, I kid ye not.
Well, no more of this nonsense, I say. Down with visible ribcages. Down with sick bowls. Let the revolution begin. Today I’ve put myself on a gruelling regimen of little and often, to work my way back up to normality. I’ve just spent half an hour chugging determinedly through a single slice of toast and a glass of milk, and you’d better believe that I’m doing the whole thing again in two hours’ time. Timothy has bought one of those Tesco’s Indian Meals for Two – as close to culinary Nirvana as I expect to find in this life – and put it in the fridge to encourage me. It taunts me every time I go in there for more margarine, but not for long. Yes, sweet orange tikka masala. Oh yes, naan bread of spicy deliciousness. Yes, yes, pilau rice of radiant beauty. I’ll be coming for you one of these days.